


Bright Sky, Night Sky

by burnttongueontea



Series: BT Tower Telephone Group F [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Fluff, Gen, Historical, Humor, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens), Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnttongueontea/pseuds/burnttongueontea
Summary: ‘You’re not in pain, are you?’ asked Crawly nervously. ‘Your face has gone a bit – ’‘No. It’s just your wings.’‘My wings?’‘I haven’t,’ said Aziraphale, helplessly addled and helplessly honest, ‘been so close to someone else’s. Since.’
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: BT Tower Telephone Group F [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937884
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	Bright Sky, Night Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [It Has to Hurt if it is to Heal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26657353) by [Scrumptious_Bastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrumptious_Bastard/pseuds/Scrumptious_Bastard). 



> Today in 'tropes I never thought I'd write': wings!
> 
> This fic was written as part of the Do It With Style Events Telephone challenge - I received a heavily-redacted version of an art piece by Scrumptious_Bastard, and had just 48 hours to write 1000 words inspired by what I could see. So, all for fun and practice, I can't claim that it's my masterpiece!
> 
> Minor content note, as Aziraphale and Crawly both casually use some victim-blaming language to discuss Aziraphale having his drink spiked.

The blue was _so bright_.

There was really nothing here but scrub and sky, as far as the eye could see. The sky was very blue, and very bright, and Aziraphale was very, very stupid.

He hadn’t meant to wander this far into the outback, or to forget which direction the settlement was in, and he definitely hadn’t meant to sit for so long, dazed, on this abandoned stone wall. Crawly, of all people, wasn’t meant to be coming up behind him. (Aziraphale especially wasn’t meant to be _delighted_ at the arrival of his enemy.)

Since when was the demon even in Australia?

‘Aziraphale,’ said Crawly, triumphantly. ‘I _knew_ that was you I could sense. What the devil are you doing all the way out here?’

Aziraphale opened his mouth, and lost power over it.

‘Oh, hello, Crawly! Fancy seeing you here, in the middle of nowhere, or at the edge of it, or however far from _somewhere_ we are here, anyway. Look, I know it’s a funny sort of thing for _me_ to ask of _you_ , but I don’t suppose you could help me out, could you?’

Crawly hopped over the wall.

‘What?’

‘Help me, I said. Oh, you’ll think I’m silly. It’s just, I’ve been out here for hours, and it’s _dreadfully_ hot and I really _would_ like to get under some shelter, but I’m having trouble, um.’ He flapped a hand. ‘Having trouble working out where I am, exactly.’

The demon gave him a long, concerned look. Really, Aziraphale shouldn’t be talking to Crawly at all, in this condition. But ‘should’ had started to feel like a very distant concept, over the last few sun-baked hours.

‘Are you drunk?’

‘ _No!_ I don’t think so. I think I’m – something else.’

‘You _think_?’

‘They slipped me something,’ he explained, miserably. ‘Those humans camping by the river. Offered me a few drinks, and then slipped something into them. I think they wanted to get hold of my ring. But I got away, as soon as I started feeling odd.’

‘Cheeky fuckers,’ said Crawly, and it was hard to tell if he was scandalized or fond.

Aziraphale’s voice, on the other hand, was unambiguously plaintive.

‘It’s taking ever such a long time to wear off, Crawly.’

‘Why haven’t you called for help? You know. From Heaven.’

‘Because it’s my fault. I’m stupid, and I drink too much, and I believe anything anyone says to me.’

Crawly chuckled. ‘You _are_ in a mess.’

Aziraphale put a horrified hand over his mouth. The second sentence, he’d only meant to _think_ , not say.

This conversation wasn’t a good idea. Lost and witless and vulnerable, and telling a demon all about it. He’d better get away from Crawly. Aziraphale picked up his travelling-pack, and got off the wall.

*

Standing up didn’t seem to have gone the way he wanted it to. Instead of being further away from Crawly, Aziraphale was on his back, in the dust, with the demon leaning over him and smiling.

The blue sky was still awfully bright.

‘What happened?’

‘You passed out.’

‘I did _not_.’

‘You did a very good impression of it, then.’

‘I’m an angel. It’s impossible.’

‘Surely, as an angel, you should be proud of achieving the impossible. By a feat of miracle, you passed out.’

‘I didn’t,’ Aziraphale insisted, and passed out again.

*

The next time he came round, it was dark.

‘Good morning,’ said Crawly, who was crouching by his side, very close. ‘You know, it’s really a waste of mercy, the fact you didn’t punish those humans for tricking you. I mean, I get why you didn’t, but letting them take advantage of an angel in the first place… you might as well have given them a free VIP pass to Hell, right?’

Aziraphale was still stuck on words one and two. He didn’t _think_ it was morning – or night, either, for that matter. He stared at the dark sky. It wasn’t the sky. It was too… texture-y. Aziraphale was sitting up – Crawly must have moved him, propped him up against the wall – and staring at a canopy of deep, velvet black.

‘Crawly, are those your wings?’

‘Yup. Wanted to get you out of the sun.’

‘Put them away! They’ll see you!’

‘There’s no-one for miles!’

Aziraphale tried to reach for the black feathers, as if to fold them away himself, even though it was terribly rude to grab at another angel’s wings like that. His captor gently but firmly deflected him, and made him lean backwards once more.

Crawly had never touched him before. His hands were soft.

‘Aziraphale. You know how I said you were in a mess?’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, you need to rest here, and stay calm, or you’ll be in a worse one.’

It didn’t seem like a bad suggestion. Resting here, in this tiny private pocket of darkness. The air was cool, and everything was quiet, and the familiar, powdery smell of feathers was – the smell was –

‘You’re not in pain, are you?’ asked Crawly nervously. ‘Your face has gone a bit – ’

‘No. It’s just your wings.’

‘My wings?’

‘I haven’t,’ said Aziraphale, helplessly addled and helplessly honest, ‘been so close to someone else’s. Since.’

Crawly looked embarrassed.

‘They never got back into it, then, after the Fall?’ he asked, in a funny voice. ‘Lounging about grooming each other, and snuggling up in big feathery piles, and all that… all that stupid angelic shit they used to do?’

‘I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know.’

‘They’re definitely not doing it in Hell.’

‘Oh. Well then. You keep them very smart, considering.’

‘Er,’ said Crawly. ‘Thanks.’

Aziraphale was still staring. He reached out again, stupidly, and took one dark crow-feather between his fingers. Ran them slowly down the length of it, just wanting to feel.

The whole wing-canopy shivered and rustled.

There was a moment of silence.

‘What _are_ you doing in Australia, anyway?’ the angel asked, to break it.

‘Eugh. It’s a long story.’

The humans round here told long stories at night, while watching the stars. It was not night-time, and the glistening edges on Crawly’s feathers were not stars, but they were – quite possibly – close enough.

‘I think I have time to hear it,’ Aziraphale said.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Above me only sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651053) by [Mirach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirach/pseuds/Mirach)




End file.
